


Honour Among Thieves

by guineapiggie



Category: Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Airports, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, baggage, literal and otherwise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:01:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21903406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guineapiggie/pseuds/guineapiggie
Summary: Inej throws him a strained smile. “I don’t know you, but you’re the worst part of my day.”He cocks his head to the side and shrugs.“Youstole my luggage.”“We never established I took it on purpose.”
Relationships: Kaz Brekker/Inej Ghafa
Comments: 15
Kudos: 188





	Honour Among Thieves

“’scuse me.” 

Inej reminds herself not to slow her steps, or tighten her grip on the suitcase she’s carrying. Why would she? This is her suitcase, that she picked up from the baggage claim, a passenger among many coming in from Amsterdam. 

She has, of course, tragically lost her ticket, that’s all.

“Excuse me. _Miss_.”

The voice calling after her sounds younger than she expected from the suitcase. It has a heavy rasp to it, though. She knows the sound of a smoker when she hears one. 

Something solid catches around her ankle and knocks her off her rhythm. She doesn’t trip (Inej Ghafa doesn’t _trip,_ alright), but the momentum of the heavy suitcase carries her forward further than she would like, until she catches herself - just in time to almost collide with a man in black leaning on a walking stick.

It suddenly occurs to her that while she’s obviously aware of their existence, she has never actually seen a walking stick in real life. It looks like a prop from a film, too, with a silver handle sculpted into some intricate shape - possibly a bird. Goes with his dramatic coat, to be fair - and the suitcase, come to think of it.

There’s a half-smile tugging at his thin lips. On second glance, he’s younger than she first thought, but it’s hard to pinpoint - about twenty, maybe even younger than that. Not a lot of time to screw up his voice that much, then. 

“Thank you,” he says drily, which catches her off guard.

 _For stealing your suitcase?_ He probably means for stopping, but it’s not like he gave her much of a choice. Inej opts for silence.

“Haven’t done this long, have you?”

Inej briefly entertains the idea that this guy is still high from his trip to Amsterdam. She doesn’t think weed lasts that long, but then again he’s pretty much skin and bones, so maybe he took more than he could handle. He doesn’t _look_ high, though - his eyes are so dark that she can’t even make out his pupils with any certainty, but they look unnervingly sharp and clear. Besides, there’s nothing relaxed about this guy; he looks… not tense, necessarily. Focused, like a cat waiting to pounce on its prey.

Either way, what comes out of his mouth makes no fucking sense, just like his accent that tells her London at first and nothing at all upon closer inspection.

“Sorry?” she says innocently, and he merely raises a brow at her.

“You should have gone for the black one with the silver tag. You want to go for something… _instagrammable."_ His nose wrinkles in slight disgust. “Good chance for some brand-new clothes, at least mid-range. Hair tools, those can go for a lot, and they sell easily. Can’t sell make-up if it’s open, of course, but chances are the owner bought something in Amsterdam she hasn’t opened yet that you can give back in a shop.” He adjusts his stance, shifting his weight a little and gripping the cane tighter. Inej is faintly impressed - he looks like he really needs that thing, and if so, he was damn fast despite of it.

She considers playing dumb again, but it hasn’t worked the last time. 

“So you’ve written the book on petty theft, have you?”

Again that humourless little smile. “Well, we all start somewhere. Anyway, I’ll take that back now, please.”

She could outrun him. She’s faster than most people, if she has to be - and certainly faster than some malnourished guy with a limp - but she’d only draw attention to herself. She sets the suitcase down and rolls her shoulder.

“Heavy for a -”

“Cripple?” he supplies flatly, and Inej feels her eyes narrow, insulted - which is idiotic, considering she wasn’t pissed when he accused her of being a thief, and a bad one at that. But then again, that was probably just true. She’s not an arse, though.

“A guy.”

“Stereotyping,” he says, a spark in his dark eyes now. “Lazy. Won’t serve you well.”

Inej resists the urge to roll her eyes and makes a show of patting her pockets. “Damn it, I don’t - do you have a pen, I should write this down -”

He reaches into his own coat pocket to produce a folded piece of paper and a pen - _bastard_ \- and holds it out to her with a smirk. 

Inej throws him a strained smile. “I don’t know you, but you’re the worst part of my day.”

He cocks his head to the side and shrugs. “ _You_ stole my luggage.”

“We never established I took it on purpose.”

He still looks amused. “You’re a better liar than thief, I’ll give you that, but… come on.”

She glowers at him, and he looks thoroughly unimpressed. 

“The execution wasn’t bad, mind. Took me longer to spot you than I’d like to admit,” he adds, then digs two reddish notes out of his wallet and extends them to her along with the folded paper. 

She frowns at him, wondering if this is an awkward attempt at propositioning her. Maybe he is high after all. Or just really fucking weird.

“Take it.”

“Why?”

He throws her a wolfish smile. “Because you smuggled stolen goods through customs for me, and I don’t like owing people.”

Inej blinks. 

He picks up the suitcase and sighs, pressing the money into her hands. He’s wearing leather gloves, in March. 

“If you want a more, ah… lucrative job. Probably won’t be more legal than this one, though.”

She still frowns at him, lost for words.

“If not… don’t go for businessmen. They keep their valuables in the hand luggage. They’re not worth the risk. Young rich women. Americans touring Europe. You want them.”

With that, he turns around and walks away, the _tap-tap_ of his cane lost among the hustle and bustle of the airport before she can even roll her eyes at the smugness of it all. 

She tears her eyes away from the crowd ahead and looks down at her hand that is holding… two fifty pound notes. 

This guy paid her a hundred quid for attempting to steal his suitcase. She is almost annoyed she didn’t ask what was inside - the easy guess is weed, but somehow she doubts it.

The paper he handed her turns out to be a self-printed boarding pass, _Amsterdam - Gatwick, Seat 14 F. Brekker, Kazimir_ \- well, that’s a fucking made-up name if ever she’s seen one.

On the back, in a scrawl that looks just as out of time as he had in his ridiculous black coat and those leather gloves, it says _Crow Club, Hackney.  
Play nice with the barman, he’s an idiot but he owns the place. _

Inej scoffs and makes her way to the exit. The smile on her lips, _if_ there is one, is purely due to relief that she’s made twice as much as she’d hoped to make today, and without having to go through the hassle of selling some stranger’s shit, too.

Yes, if there is a smile, it's purely due to that. 


End file.
